Chapter 1: THE MASK

FIVE WEEKS EARLIER...

The dressing room at Eclipse smelled like expensive perfume, cheap hairspray, and desperation.

Eve stared at her reflection in the mirror, studying the stranger looking back at her. Heavy makeup transformed her face...smoky eyes rimmed with glitter, lips painted deep crimson, cheekbones contoured into sharp angles. The silver mask rested on the counter beside her, intricate filigree catching the harsh fluorescent light.

Her armor. Her anonymity. Her salvation.

"You're on in ten," Maya called from across the room, her best friend's voice cutting through the general chaos of women preparing for the night shift. "You okay? You look pale under all that war paint."

Eve forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine."

She wasn't fine. She was exhausted down to her bones, running on three hours of sleep and too much coffee. The hospital had called again this morning....her mother's condition was deteriorating. They needed to start the experimental treatment soon, or....

Eve cut off that thought before it could fully form. She couldn't think about or. She could only think about the number burning in her mind: $847,000. That's what the treatment cost. That's what she needed to keep her mother alive.

She'd been dancing at Eclipse for eight months, saving every penny from the exclusive private performances. The club catered to the supernatural elite...werewolves, vampires, fae, and creatures she couldn't even name. They paid obscenely well for beautiful human women willing to dance for them, and even better for those willing to do more.

Eve drew the line at dancing. She'd never crossed into the private rooms where other services were offered. The money was good enough with just performances, and she'd managed to save $68,000 so far.

It wasn't nearly enough.

"Earth to Eve," Maya snapped her fingers in front of Eve's face. "Seriously, what's wrong? You've been weird all week."

Eve picked up the mask, running her thumb over the cool metal. "Mom's numbers were bad at her appointment yesterday. They want to start the treatment next month."

Maya's expression softened. She knew about Eve's mother, about the rare blood disease slowly killing her, about the experimental treatment that was her only hope. "How much do you still need?"

"More than I'll ever have," Eve said quietly, securing the mask over her face. It covered everything from her forehead to her upper lip, transforming her into someone else. Someone mysterious. Someone desired. Someone who wasn't a twenty-three-year-old woman watching her only family die by inches.

"Hey," Maya gripped her shoulder. "Don't give up. Something will come through. It always does."

Eve wanted to believe her. But hope was a dangerous thing when you were drowning.

"Five minutes!" Rick's voice boomed from the doorway. Their manager was a gruff bear shifter with a soft spot for his dancers and a ruthless streak when it came to clients who crossed lines. "Eve, you're opening tonight. Main stage. We've got some high rollers in the VIP section, so make it good."

Eve nodded, rising from her chair. The costume she wore was barely there...a sheer silver bodysuit that left little to the imagination, strategically placed crystals providing the only real coverage. It should have made her feel exposed, but instead it made her feel powerful. Men paid thousands just to watch her move in this outfit. Their desire gave her control, even if it was an illusion.

She walked through the back corridors of the club, her heels clicking against marble floors. Eclipse was beautiful in a decadent, dangerous way...all dark wood, velvet curtains, and mood lighting designed to make shadows come alive. The supernatural clientele demanded luxury, and Eclipse delivered.

The music started, a slow, sensual beat that thrummed through the floor. Eve took a breath, rolled her shoulders back, and stepped through the curtain onto the main stage.

The lights hit her immediately, warm and blinding. She couldn't see past the first few rows, which was how she preferred it. Better not to make eye contact, not to see the faces of the men watching her with predatory interest.

She moved through her routine with practiced grace...a combination of contemporary dance and raw sensuality that had made her one of Eclipse's most requested performers. Her body knew the steps by heart, freeing her mind to wander.

$847,000. Experimental treatment. Next month. How? How how how?

She spun, arching her back, letting the lights catch the crystals on her costume. The crowd responded with appreciative sounds....whistles, growls, the scrape of claws against expensive wood.

That's when she felt it.

Eyes on her. Not the general male appreciation she was used to, but something focused. Intense. Predatory in a way that made her skin prickle with awareness.

She turned, trying to locate the source without breaking character. The VIP section was elevated at the back of the club, shrouded in shadow. She could make out shapes...three figures seated together, utterly still.

Watching her.

Eve's heart kicked up, though she wasn't sure if it was fear or something else. Something her body recognized before her mind could catch up.

She continued dancing, but now she was hyperaware of those eyes tracking her every movement. It felt like being hunted, like being prey that had finally drawn the attention of apex predators.

When her routine ended and she took her bow, the applause was thunderous. But she barely heard it over the rushing in her ears. She needed to get off this stage, needed to escape those watching eyes.

Eve retreated through the curtain, her breathing harder than the routine warranted.

"Holy shit," Maya grabbed her arm the moment she was backstage. "Did you see them?"

"See who?" Eve asked, though she knew exactly who Maya meant.

"The Blackwood triplets. In VIP. They've been here for an hour, and they haven't looked at anyone but you." Maya's eyes were wide. "Do you know who they are?"

Eve shook her head, pulling off her mask to wipe the sweat from her face.

"They're alphas. Like, the alphas of the Northern Territory. They're..." Maya lowered her voice. "They're dangerous, Eve. Really dangerous. There are stories about what they do to women."

A chill ran down Eve's spine. "What kind of stories?"

Before Maya could answer, Rick appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Eve. My office. Now."

Maya shot her a worried look, but Eve forced herself to walk calmly behind Rick through the maze of backstage corridors. His office was small and cramped, filled with filing cabinets and the lingering smell of cigar smoke.

"Sit," Rick gestured to the chair across from his desk.

Eve sat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "If this is about my performance..."

"Your performance was fine," Rick interrupted. He pulled out a tablet, tapped the screen a few times, then turned it toward her. "This is about an offer."

Eve leaned forward, reading the document on the screen. Her eyes caught on the number first because it was impossible to miss.

$2,000,000.

Two million dollars.

Her vision blurred. "What..."

"Exclusive contract," Rick explained, his voice careful. "Six months. The clients want to book you for private performances. Every night they want you, you go. No refusals."

Eve's hands started shaking. Two million dollars. That was more than enough for her mother's treatment. More than enough for everything.

"Who?" she whispered.

Rick's expression darkened. "The Blackwood brothers."

The name meant nothing to her, but the tone in Rick's voice said it should. "The men in VIP?"

"Yes." Rick leaned back in his chair. "Look, Eve, I'm going to be straight with you. These men... they have a reputation. They're not gentle. They're not kind. Girls who've performed for them come back..." He paused, searching for words. "Changed."

"Changed how?"

"Shaken. Marked. Some quit dancing altogether." Rick met her eyes. "I'm not going to tell you what to do with this offer, but I need you to understand what you might be signing up for. These aren't normal clients."

Eve looked back at the tablet, at the number that could save her mother's life. "What exactly would I be doing?"

"Private performances. In their home. Whatever they want, within the bounds of the contract." Rick tapped the screen, scrolling to another section. "It specifies dancing and... companionship. The contract is ironclad—you'd be bound to fulfill it."

"Companionship," Eve repeated. Her stomach churned. She knew what that word meant in this context.

"You don't have to decide now," Rick said. "Sleep on it. This is a big..."

"I'll do it."

The words were out before Eve could stop them. Rick's eyebrows shot up. "Eve...."

"How soon do I need to sign?"

Rick studied her face, and she wondered what he saw there. Desperation, probably. Maybe resignation. "They want an answer by tomorrow night. But Eve, seriously, think about this. Two million dollars isn't worth..."

"It is," Eve interrupted. "It's worth everything."

Because it was her mother's life. And there was nothing..nothing...she wouldn't do to save the woman who'd raised her, loved her, sacrificed everything for her.

Even if it meant six months with three dangerous men who had reputations for breaking women.

Rick sighed heavily. "I'll tell them you're interested. They'll want to meet you first, probably. To make sure you're... suitable."

Eve nodded, her heart pounding. "Okay."

"Go home, Eve. Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

She stood on shaky legs and walked to the door. Her hand was on the handle when Rick spoke again.

"Eve? Be careful. The Blackwoods don't play nice, and they don't do mercy."

She looked back at him, forcing herself to smile. "I can handle it."

She didn't know if that was true. But it didn't matter.

Her mother was dying, and two million dollars could save her.

Everything else—fear, self-preservation, dignity...was secondary.

Eve left Eclipse an hour later, changed into jeans and an oversized sweater, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. The mask was carefully stored in her bag, a reminder of the woman she became under the lights.

The drive to her apartment took thirty minutes, long enough for doubt to creep in. Long enough to remember Maya's words: There are stories about what they do to women.

Long enough to wonder what she'd just agreed to.

Her apartment was tiny...a studio in a rundown building that smelled like mildew and broken dreams. But it was hers, paid for with money she'd earned, and it was close to the hospital where her mother was slowly fading away.

Eve dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto her bed without bothering to change. Her phone buzzed—a text from Maya.

Maya: You okay? Rick looked serious.

Eve stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. How did she explain that she'd just possibly sold her soul? That she'd agreed to six months with three dangerous men because the alternative was watching her mother die?

Eve: I'm fine. Just tired. Talk tomorrow.

She set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.

Two million dollars.

Six months.

The Blackwood brothers.

She'd made her choice. Now she just had to survive it.

*****

Somewhere across the city, in a mansion she'd never seen, three alphas sat in the darkness and smiled.

They'd found her.

Finally.

And in six months, they'd make sure she never wanted to leave.